So There I Was
by MinionRipley
Summary: A DAWC prompt fill. Varric loves telling a good story. Of course, some stories need a little more embellishment than others...


Author's Notes: Here's a short DAWC fill inspired by the following prompt at www .dot. fanfiction .dot. net .slash. topic/95729/47320060/2/Challenges-and-Prompts:

_Varric is a storyteller, and we know he exaggerates/changes details. Take any scene from DA2 and show us "what really happened". Twist: Show our companion characters and Hawke reacting to one of Varric's stories, all with their own 'take' on how it happened._

I apologize if it doesn't fit the prompt exactly, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. I know I got quite the kick out of writing it! Thank you for reading!

So There I Was

"No shit, there I was. Hawke, Rivaini, Daisy, and yours truly sidestepping, sliding, and hopping between the creature's legs like we're dancing a jig with-"

Isabela's laugh cut the narrative short. "'Dancing a jig'?" she said. "More like-"

"You want me to get to the part where Hawke 'repays' you for bravely taking a hit for her or not?"

The pirate leaned back in her chair with a smirk and waved the dwarf on.

"All right, so there I was," Varric began again. "Hawke's blasting fire and Daisy's shooting ice with everything they've got, Rivaini's hanging onto the creature's back with a dagger in its hide and a broken arm at her side, and there I was at the crest of the waterfall with Bianca in my hands and only three shots left. I took one look and-"

"Wait," Fenris interrupted. He set an elbow on the wooden table and raised a questioning brow at the dwarf. "I don't understand. You said just a moment ago _you_ were on its back and-"

"Trust me, Broody; the story's better this way."

"For the last time, I don't _brood_."

Varric grinned. "Sure, and the Queen of Antiva gave me a chateau for my name-day." He took a swallow of what passed for ale in the Hanged Man before continuing, "So, as I was saying, I took one look and-"

"_Varric_."

With a groan, he stopped yet again. "What is it, Aveline? Don't tell me making a grand entrance is a crime nowadays."

The guard-captain pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed. "I can't put this in my report, Varric; no one is going to believe it. Just tell us what really happened."

"Oh, come on, it's only a little embellishment," he said. "It makes it more exciting!"

"Define 'little.'"

He rolled his eyes. "All right, so I may have added more than a 'little,' but it's all for-"

"What are you guys talking about?"

All at the table turned their attention to the source of the new voice. Brown hair neatly braided and laid across a shoulder, her grey eyes twinkling, Marian Hawke stood with a hand on her hip and the other on a tankard freshly filled from the bar. Corff's work, no doubt; Hawke did take Varric's advice on _some_ matters.

She eyed each of them in turn: Isabela threw her a wink before hiking up her feet onto the table and crossing them at the ankle, never mind the view doing so gave all those sitting across from her. Aveline rubbed at her temples with a scowl, and Anders sat back with a sigh and nursed his mug of alcohol. Fenris offered her the barest of perplexed frowns and a shrug of his lean shoulders before turning back to his own drink. Merrill picked at a splinter in the tabletop, and Sebastian leaned forward, his hands eagerly clasped together, towards the dwarf. Said dwarf sat peacefully sipping at his drink, the corners of his lips twitching up into a grin that had cost her five hands at diamondback, two rounds from the bar, and a fancy Orlesian shoe for purposes still unknown.

It was a pretty big table.

"Or… do I not want to know?" she added with an arched eyebrow.

"The varterral," Sebastian answered. "Varric was telling us how you defeated it. Or his version of it, at any rate."

"Hawke, _please_," Aveline said. "Getting a straight story out of him is like pulling teeth."

"What's he saying?" Hawke asked.

"Oh, it's very exciting!" Merrill cried with a wide smile. "It has crests, waterfalls, jigs, and-"

"But there weren't any waterfalls," she interjected.

Varric frowned. "_Hawke_."

"You were _there_, Merrill; you know there weren't any," she said, pulling up a chair. "No jigs, either."

"Oh, I know," the elf replied with a wistful sigh. "He just made it sound so exciting, though."

"So what _did_ happen?" the guard-captain asked.

"_Hawke_," Varric warned again.

It went dutifully ignored.

"Thing just up and kicked itself in the head. Knocked itself right out."

All at the table sputtered, save Isabela, Merrill, Varric, and Hawke herself. Anders nearly choked on a mouthful of ale and, after several coughs, weakly yelled, "What? You've got to be kidding me!"

"Nope," Hawke replied. "Tripped on a boulder, fell down, and kicked itself right in the head. Shortest fight I've ever been in."

Varric groused, "You never let me have any fun, Hawke."

"I do, too. Remember that time at the corner of Baker's Street and Fifth?"

He gave a small smile. "Oh, yeah, how could I forget? That was golden!"

Aveline slammed a fist down onto the table. All eyes, some rounder than others, snapped to her. Those sitting next to her subtly scooted their chairs an inch or two away.

With a stern look, she said, "Let me get this right: the varterral simply _killed itself_?"

"More or less," Varric grunted.

Merrill sighed again. "I told you it hadn't been working right."

Hawke took a sip of her drink. "That's what you get for sticking so many legs on it."


End file.
